The Ladder: Part 1

by David Hodges

  The convoy continued into the forest road. They rode slowly over the winding dirt road for a half hour before they came to a halt. There was a split in the road with three paths that could be taken. Major Hunt pulled out a folded paper and, after a quick glance, he waved the convoy to the rightmost path. They encountered several more of these forks, each time they were directed by Major Hunt after he checked his note.

  Cameron wondered where he was leading them. He obviously had some destination in mind. Just like he had with Derby.

  It was dusk when they approached a long, crumbling wall. It looked ancient. “Here we are,” said Major Hunt. On the other side of the walls, several fires were burning as partially uniformed men ate their dinner.

  The first search party.

  Just behind the camp were the ruins of what appeared to be a medieval castle. It was completely constructed of dark stone. Several portions of the structure were intact, including a large tower. “Incredible.”

  “Fergus would be wetting his drawers,” said Daniel.

  An officer from the camp approached and greeted Major Hunt and Captain Dukes. “Your travels went smoothly, I presume.”

  “They did. How goes the search?” said Major Hunt.

  “No sign of him. He knows these woods better than we do.”

  Cameron interrupted. “Do you know who took her?

  Major Hunt said, “This conversation doesn’t concern you. We think she’s close, so we’re searching here. That’s all you need to know. Go set up camp.”

  Cameron shook his head, clenched his fist, and did as he was told.

  The soldiers set up their tents and fed their horses before preparing fires and pots of water for their dinner. Cameron and Daniel sat near a small fire they had constructed for themselves.

  “They know more than they’re letting on,” said Cameron. “Why won’t they just tell us? We’re here for the same reason as them.”

  “I dunno, I suppose you can’t blame them though. They look at us and they see a farmer and a fletcher. I’m not sure I’d inspire much faith if I were looking at me neither.”

  “Well it wouldn’t hurt if we knew what was going on.”

  Cameron gazed up at the castle tower. He thought he noticed a movement, a flicker of light, in one of the windows. He squinted and saw nothing there.

  Cameron and Daniel finished their meals and went to their tent to sleep. Cameron laid on his cot and thought of Alexandra. The same questions had run through his head hundreds of times. Why did they take her? What are they doing to her? Is she hurt? Is she even alive? He clenched his covers and breathed heavily at the swirling anxieties.

  Daniel took notice and said, “Cameron, you’ve got to take your mind off it. You’ll make yourself sick.”

  Cameron rolled over and ignored the advice.

  Just as his eyelids were finally growing heavy, Cameron heard a man scream. Then a gunshot followed by several more as a panic ensued with men shouting and horses whinnying. He leapt out of his bed and grabbed his bow and quiver. Daniel was doing the same. By the time they had their boots on, it was quiet. They slowly exited the tent and saw soldiers scattered about the campsite, all of them lying motionless.

  Cameron noticed that the nearest had a dart in his back, the same kind that General Marlow had given him. “It’s him,” he whispered as he knocked an arrow.

  Cameron was startled when a man stumbled out of one of the tents holding a pistol; it was Captain Dukes. The terrified officer aimed his pistol in front of him and spun around, trying to find a target. “Who’s there! Show yourself!” he yelled.

  Cameron called out, “Captain!”

  Captain Dukes turned and fired a shot off at Cameron. The bullet whizzed by Cameron’s ear and shattered a tent post behind him.

  “Bollocks!” shouted Daniel. “It’s us, you overgrown...”

  Before he could finish, a man landed in front of the Captain and lifted him up with an enormous, disfigured hand wrapped all the way around his neck. His hood fell off to reveal a bald, gray scalp and mottled skin. He examined Captain Duke’s face for a moment then kicked him against a tree ten feet away. There was a sickening crunch.

  The man turned toward Cameron and Daniel.

  Cameron loosed an arrow which the man effortlessly dodged.

  Daniel fired an arrow next, but the man leapt over it toward Cameron and Daniel. He soared through the air and came down above them, pinning them both to the ground when he landed.

  Cameron grasped the man’s arm and tried to lift it off of him, but it would not budge.

  A shot went off nearby.

  A ball hit the man. He staggered off of them holding his side as a savage yell approached them.

  Cameron got up and saw someone charging toward them with a musket and bayonet outstretched. Fergus. The injured man looked back at the sound of horses galloping just as Fergus was nearing him. He swatted the musket aside when Fergus reached him, then jumped into a tree. He disappeared into the darkness.

  “Fergus!” Daniel yelled as he gave him a hug. “Never... in my life... have I been so glad to see you!” he said in between deep breaths.

  Cameron asked, “What are you doing here? Have you followed us the whole way?”

  “Who cares!” yelled Daniel, “he’s just saved our lives!”

  “You’re right.” Cameron thought out loud, “That man’s skin, and the way he moved... I was sure we were—” Cameron was distracted by the sight of horses that were approaching them. Four riders split apart and surrounded them. They wore an assortment of armor, mail, and leather that were well suited to the castle behind them.

  “What’s happened here!” said one of them, his eerily gray eyes not fixed on any of them. Three feral looking dogs that could have been mistaken for wolves stood near his horse.

  “We were with a search party, the royal army. We were attacked.”

  “And why aren’t you in the same state as them?”

  “The attacker was shot, then he heard you coming and he ran... or, jumped off.”

  “How did he know?” said one of the burly guards in a hushed voice to his companions.

  The man with gray eyes looked at a wiry guard. “Cuyler, bring them. Take one of those wagons and send help when you arrive. Bjorn stay here and clean up. Coinín, with me...”

  The one called Cuyler approached.

  Cameron began to draw an arrow from his quiver.

  In a flash, the guard fired his own arrow straight through the shaft of Cameron’s arrow.

  Cameron decided to cooperate. Cuyler cuffed his wrists behind him with some kind of clingy rope, then blindfolded him. Cameron was ushered up onto the wagon, and he felt two bodies pushed up beside him. “Daniel? Fergus?”

  “Aye,” they both replied.

  “Who do you reckon they are?” asked Cameron

  “Look like stage actors to me,” said Daniel.

  Fergus said, “Not the way the archer handled his bow, and that armor, it’s authentic.”

  “What kind of mess are we in now?” said Cameron.

  The wagon started forward and continued on for about a half hour until it stopped. Cameron made out the sound of metal gears turning to move something heavy while they waited.

  When the sound stopped, the wagon continued on for a few minutes, then Cameron was pulled off the wagon and directed through the sounds of hinging doors and footsteps upon hard floors. A heavy door closed and Cameron’s blindfold was removed. In front of him stood a beautiful young woman who wore a serious expression. She continued on to Daniel and Fergus to remove their blindfolds.

  “Thank you, Alviva,” said an older man standing next to a large fireplace. He had gray hair and wore a fine vest and shirt. His contemporary outfit was in stark contrast to the armored guards in the room.

  “Why have you brought us here? Who are you?” Cameron asked.

  “I’ll answer your questions, but first, I have a few of my own... what is your name?”

  Cameron answered
, “William.”

  The man extended a hand which Cameron accepted and said, “Pleasure to meet you. I am Mr. Plantagenet.” The man walked toward Daniel. “Your name?”

  “James.”

  He approached Fergus, “and you?”

  “F-, Ferguson, Ferguson.”

  Cameron and Daniel both looked to Fergus and sighed.

  A door opened and a guard said, “Sir, the Ladder is open...”

  Plantagenet focused. “Bring it in.”

  The guard returned with a silver metal object and handed it to Plantagenet. Cameron could see why they referred to it as a Ladder. It was flat and had rungs joining two rails. “You said you would tell us why we’re here. What’s that thing got to do with us?”

  “That depends.” He let go of the ladder, just in front of Fergus. It rose up and hung in the air, rotating and spinning slowly in place.

  Impossible. These people must have been connected with that man and his unnatural hands and skin, his peculiar weapon choice. The strange armor, this thing floating in midair, none of it made sense. Cameron wondered if that poison was playing tricks on him.

  “Touch the ladder,” said Plantagenet.

  “Wh-what?” asked Fergus.

  “Place your hand on the ladder,” said Plantagenet slowly. Fergus reached out timidly and squinted as he touched one finger to the ladder. Nothing happened. Plantagenet swept the ladder through the air to Daniel and nodded. Daniel took a deep breath and placed his hand on the ladder. Nothing happened. Plantagenet guided the ladder toward Cameron and said, “William, was it?”

  Cameron looked to Daniel and Fergus, their worried expressions offered no comfort. He took a deep breath. What’s the worst that could happen? He reached for the ladder.

  The instant he made contact with it, the rungs split in half and the cold metal ladder slithered up his arm like an enormous millipede. Cameron tried to shake it off to no avail.

  It reached the back of his neck, oriented vertically, and penetrated its sharp legs into his skin. He felt an icy, sharp pain shoot down his spine as he collapsed to the ground and screamed. He tried to reach for the ladder but he was paralyzed. He heard Daniel and Fergus’s fading voices shouting his name, “Cameron!”

  11

  HAZEL

  Hazel watched as Fergus ran to his almost certain death. He fired a shot. Hazel was astounded when it hit the man that was on top of Cameron and Daniel. Fergus carried his momentum forward with a battle cry. When he reached the man, his musket was swatted away and the man retreated, jumping impossibly high into the trees.

  Hazel was ready to break her cover and run to her brothers and Fergus when she saw several horses galloping toward them. She kept her distance and waited, watching as the three of them were once again plunged into peril, blindfolded with their hands tied behind their back. At least these people were not trying to kill them on the spot.

  Hazel heard the sound of something running through the woods. She looked for its source and spotted a group of four legged animals dashing between the trees’ dark silhouettes. One of them stopped, then walked toward her. As it drew nearer, Hazel could make out its features. Large pointed ears, a long coat, and broad shoulders. It raised its head up, sniffed the air, and continued toward her.

  Hazel struggled to muffle her breathing. She thought of running, but knew that would only alert the animal of her presence. It approached with its head hung low until it was within feet of her, then it froze. A wolf.

  Hazel thought of crying for help, but by the time any of the guards arrived it would be too late. She could think of no other option. She reached out her trembling hand slowly. “It’s okay,” she said with as much benevolence as she could summon.

  The wolf bounded toward her.

  Hazel gasped and close her eyes, holding back a scream. Then she felt a warm, wet sensation on her hand, far from the clasp of teeth she was expecting. She opened her eyes and saw the wolf licking her vigorously, wagging its tail with its ears back. She caught her breath. She lightly pet the glorified dog behind its ears. He rolled onto his back and squirmed around, playfully gnawing at her wrists. His soft fur and lithe figure conveyed his youth.

  Hazel looked back at the campsite, three of the other wolves sniffed ahead of a pair of the guards. They were headed in the same direction that the attacker had fled. They must have been tracking him. The wolves had to have been domesticated to some degree. Hazel pointed toward the wolf’s pack and said in a hushed voice, “Go on... they’re leaving without you.”

  He stared back at her and cocked his head.

  Wolves in England, armored horsemen, a man jumping between trees, and the ruins of a castle hidden within a forest. She would not have believed any of it had she not seen it for herself.

  Hazel heard the wagon creaking as it started to depart with Cameron, Daniel, and Fergus aboard. She had no idea where she was. Her only options were to surrender herself to these men or to follow them and hope they ended up somewhere she could wait. She decided not to take her chances with the men, and rushed back to her horses.

  The wolf followed after, traipsing behind.

  With a flat hand, she said, “Stay here, you’ll frighten the horses.”

  He sat and followed her order. Hazel was surprised by his obedience and went to the horses. She left the draft horse reluctantly and rode off with her barb in the direction of the wagon, careful to circumnavigate the campsite which was still occupied by one of the guards who was collecting the bodies. Hazel wondered if they could have all been killed. Whoever that inhumanly agile man was, he showed little mercy.

  She found a small road and assumed the wagon was taking the same route. She continued forward and picked up her pace. There was no sign of the wagon. She began to worry she had lost it.

  A short while later, she reached a split in the road. The wolf walked up to the road on the right and looked back at Hazel. She wondered if he knew where he was going, then decided his guidance, if that was even his intention, would be just as good as her blind guess.

  Hazel finally spotted the wagon up ahead. As she approached it she realized it was stopped in front of a stone structure. She looked up and noticed several lanterns at the top. It was a large wall, at least thirty feet high. A massive iron gate was being drawn open.

  Hazel tied her barb to a tree well off of the road. “I’ll be back for you,” she whispered. She crept toward the wagon, making sure to stay within the trees on the side of the path. The wolf continued after her, staying close behind. She stopped close to the wagon and briefly considered a rescue attempt when she saw Cameron, Daniel, and Fergus sitting helplessly on the wagon. There was a guard speaking with the man driving the wagon, and she could see movement on top of the wall.

  It was no use, she would be seen if she ran onto the road. She kept her cover and watched, hoping that the guard at the gate would at least leave, then maybe she could run through without being noticed.

  He remained at the gate, and the wagon pulled through the opened entrance. When it was through, the gate began to lower and the guard did not budge from his post. What now.

  Hazel waited there. She might have missed her only opportunity to get through the gate. A few minutes later, as she was contemplating her options and considering turning back, the gate began to open again. Three guards rode from the gate and galloped by Hazel’s hiding place.

  They must have been going back to the campsite. They would have to return at some point, she just hoped it would be soon. She sat and waited for half an hour until she spotted a covered wagon along with a herd of horses approaching the gate.

  She thought quickly. If she sat and waited like she did with the first wagon, she was likely to get the same result. She looked to the approaching wagon and horses and saw four men closing in. As the covered wagon passed by, she saw that the back of it was open and unlit. She knew what she had to do.

  She darted onto the road and jumped into the back of the wagon. She landed on something soft. She ran her
hands over the contents of the wagon and felt skin and facial features. She shuddered as she realized that the wagon was transporting the dead soldiers. She covered her nose at the sweaty, metallic scent that filled the wagon.

  The wagon paused briefly at the gate, then continued forward. Hazel peeked through the back of the wagon. She expected to find herself in a courtyard but instead saw only forest outside. After the wagon continued on a bit longer, Hazel realized that she should leave the wagon before it stopped. The guards would likely be unloading the bodies. She looked out the back to make sure there was no one in sight, then jumped out and slowed herself down as she landed, barely keeping her balance.

  She ran off of the road toward a barn. She entered and found herself comforted by the familiar scents of sawdust and hay. One of the horses puffed at her as she walked by. She stopped and the horse gave her a thorough sniffing, tickling her neck with his soft lips in the process.

  There was a staircase leading up to the hayloft. Hazel decided to rest there while she sorted through everything that had happened. She climbed up and went to the corner of the loft and tucked herself behind several bales of hay, making sure she was out of sight from the entrance.

  As she laid there, she wondered where she could have been. There were no large towns north of Derby that she knew of. The walls surrounding the village she had entered were reminiscent of medieval castle fortifications. She had seen them before, but all were in disuse, relics. It was strange that such a monumental structure was not part of some well established town, even stranger that it was tucked away in old growth forest. She decided it was best to wait until morning to find out where she was, maybe then someone could tell her. She shut her eyes and tried to sleep.

  Moments later she heard a small thud near her, then another. She got up quietly and peeked over the hay. It was particularly dark in the loft, only two small windows let in faint moonlight. At first, she did not see anything, then she noticed something small hopping on the floor. She went closer to it and saw that it was a frog. She left it alone and went back to her nest of hay, then drifted off into a much needed slumber.